


Red

by heylittleangel



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - War, Alternate Universe - World War II, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blood and Injury, Canon character deaths, DCRB, Dean/Cas Reverse Bang 2020 (Supernatural), Established Relationship, Gore and Blood, Hidden Relationship, Implied homophobia, Lots of it, M/M, Major Character Injury, Minor Character Death, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychological Trauma, Soldier!Cas, Trauma, Violence, WWII, WWII fic, War, World War II, army!au, curse words, intense use of guns, it’s war after all, lieutenant!Dean, lots of trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-11
Updated: 2020-03-11
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:22:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23080900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heylittleangel/pseuds/heylittleangel
Summary: Dean didn't even think; he ran to Cas as fast as he could, screaming his name in pure terror, grabbing a handful of Cas's uniform to pull him into his lap. Cas's eyes were wide as he stared at Dean, hands grasping uselessly at the wound by his side. His uniform was soon more red than green and Dean could feel it seeping through his combat pants. The smell soon reached Dean's nose and he couldn't do anything more than just cradle Cas's head between his hands, sobs coming out of his mouth along with something he thought was please no, not him, not him.He never actually believed in prayer until that very moment but he had to start, because all he could do was pray to any and every gods that could be out there to not take Cas away from him, because Dean wouldn't be able to survive without him; Dean couldn’t even think of living without Cas. The amount of blood and the paleness that Cas's face was turning told Dean that none of the gods were actually hearing him, but he kept on praying because there was nothing more he could do; please, God, no, not Cas, please, don't take him away from me, I love him.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 16
Kudos: 116
Collections: Dean/Cas Reverse Bang 2020





	Red

**Author's Note:**

> Heey, peeps! So, I'm here today with my second bang and this story was written for DCRB2020. It was amazing to work on it and it's one of my favourites so far. I was so lucky to claim an amazing art (which you can find [ here](https://ibb.co/HKknkh0), [ here](https://ibb.co/hmD1D4N), on [ tumblr](https://deancebra-art.tumblr.com/post/612279156480360448/for-this-years-reversebang-my-first-piece-of-art) and on [ AO3](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23094859), go give it some love!) and I got to work with [ Deancebra](https://deancebra-art.tumblr.com/), who's an _awesome_ artist and a wonderful person to work with. I hope I managed to write something that's half as amazing as your art and that I brought what you wanted to life! ❤
> 
> Secondly, I wanna thank [ Isis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/raiseyourpinky) for being my personal cheerleader, my beta, and, more importantly, my friend. I couldn't have done this without you ( _again_ ) and, as always, I own most of this to you. Thank you! ❤❤ 
> 
> Thirdly, I have to thank [ babybluecas](https://archiveofourown.org/users/babybluecas) who, as always, listened to me _a lot of times_ talking about this fic and going crazy with research. I know I've said it before but you're amazing! ❤❤
> 
> Last, but not least, I want to thank the wonderful mods of the challenge for making yet _another_ amazing bang for us to participate. You guys are amazing!
> 
> Oh, also, thanks [ Jenny](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hollyblue2/pseuds/hollyblue2) for helping me with the military talk. ❤
> 
> Alright, go read the thing now and don't forget your tissues!

The air was still, a hazy grey look all over the sky in the first lights of the morning, and there was nothing but silence; there weren’t any creaky leaves being stepped on, no guns being fired, no one talking to one another, and not even the barely-there sound of breathing from the other soldiers. There was only one thing Dean could hear and it was his own heart beating quickly and strong. He could also smell the nauseating stink of dried blood on the ground amidst the smell of rain and grass. Dean could barely see a foot in front of him and the other soldiers were a mere silhouette against the grey.

The waiting was one of the worst parts for Dean; neither they nor the enemy was firing, both probably waiting for their orders or for the other to start the fight. It seemed like everything was calm and relaxed, but the tension was thick in the air; Dean was sure it could be cut with a blind butter knife. 

His grasp on his gun was tight and he could feel a sharp pain start to make its way up his arms. But Dean didn’t let go and, instead, pushed the pain to the back of his mind, focusing his attention on any and every noise that he heard—which weren’t a lot—and on the presence of his friends by his side. He knew Cas was somewhere to his right, Benny and Charlie a little farther away, Kevin and Ash on his left. 

Dean worried for all of them, and not just as their Lieutenant Colonel but as their friend; if he could, he would’ve sent them all home while they were still in one piece but he knew couldn’t. He would have to watch them—quite possibly—get murdered, if they were lucky, or get wounded in a way that would fuck the rest of their lives up. He had seen so many of his officers get killed, or lose a leg or an arm, or get blinded, or disfigured by pieces of shrapnel, and he didn’t want any of that to happen to his friends.

Forcing those thoughts out of his mind, Dean rearranged the gun in his arms, trying to find a better position to keep still. The helmet on his head was tight and Dean fought the want of loosening it; doing so could result in him getting a bullet right through his head and he would rather not. He noticed some of his privates fidgeting with their own helmets and Dean whistled as low as he could at them; _don’t_ , his eyes and hand movement said. The officer closest to him lowered his eyes to the ground with a guilty look, their hands falling from the straps.

Letting out a heavy sigh, Dean straightened his back the best he could without revealing his position to the enemy, his bones cracking quietly. There was static on the radio close to him and Dean wanted nothing more than the voice of his superiors to come through it and let him know what they should do; Dean was getting tired of the suspense and he could sense it in the air around him as well. His soldiers were getting tired and he couldn’t even phantom the idea of the morale getting even lower. They needed to do something, even if it meant being in the middle of the crossfire; people were getting anxious.

There was suddenly a hand around his arm and Dean practically jumped out of his skin. He felt his heart at the back of his throat and his hand went immediately to the collar of the person holding his arm, pulling them close and pressing the barrel of his gun under their chin. Cas raised his arms in surrender, only a brow raised, until Dean sighed in relief and let go of his shirt, lowering the gun.

“What the hell are you doin’, Cas?” Dean whispered. “Trying to scare me to death?”

“Of course not, Dean. You just seemed too tense and I came to ask if everything’s okay.”

Dean scoffed lightly, rubbing a hand on his face. “Not at all but there’s nothing I can do. Still waiting for orders.”

Cas hummed and turned to face forward, high enough to be able to see the enemy line, hands grasping his own gun tightly. Dean took a second to really look at him; Cas’s helmet was tightly closed under his chin and giving his eyes a darker colour than usual; the uniform contrasted with his skin in a beautiful way—more than it possibly should—, his jaw was clenched tightly and shoulders tensed with the position they were in. Cas seemed like he was finding out everything he could from the enemy just with that look and Dean didn’t doubt it; he had eyes like a hawk and could see things Dean couldn’t even imagine being possible to see from that distance. He also had a great mind for strategy and sometimes had ideas not even Dean had; if Dean was being completely honest, he would definitely say he always waited for Cas’s opinion before settling on a strategy.

He waited as Cas squinted his eyes and tilted his head in certain ways, eyes searching for any flaws ahead of them. Once Cas seemed satisfied, he turned back to Dean.

“It looks like there’s an opening on their west side, not enough soldiers to protect it. If we need to send someone in a suicide sprint, it should be directed there. There’s also a weak spot a few yards from the east side,” Cas raised his hand to point at it, “Probably two or three hundred from there. Easier target and they have a canon there. It’s the best spot to hit and keep someone solely focused on hitting anyone that may get close to the canon. It’ll probably improve our chances of getting fewer casualties.”

Dean nodded as he looked over the enemy’s line of defence; Cas was most certainly right. If they managed to get a few soldiers on the west and stop anyone from working on the canon, they had a big chance of winning this.; they could even make it back home. 

He turned to Cas with a smile, mouth open to speak when another voice came from the radio, “Alpha, this is Zero, come in.”

Sighing, Dean turned to grab the radio, pressing the button before speaking, “Zero, this is Alpha, over.”

“Orders are to start firing at oh-six-hundred hours. Over.”

Dean checked his watch; oh-five-fifty-two. “Copy and out.”

He put the radio back in its place before turning to his men and whistling lowly. He tapped his watch. “At oh-six-hundred hours, you fire.”

There were nods at his way and all of his soldiers started to get in position, some readjusting their helmets, others checking their guns, others talking lowly to their colleagues and pointing at some of the enemy’s defence. Dean turned to Cas with a tired smile just to see him smiling back. Cas took his hand, squeezing it to offer some comfort before letting it go, quicker than Dean would’ve liked him to. He readjusted the strap of his gun on his shoulder and nodded at Dean.

“I’ll see you on the other side, Lieutenant.”

Dean swallowed harshly before nodding back. “Dismissed, private.”

Cas smiled at him before turning and dragging himself back to his spot. Dean took a steady breath as he checked his watch again; oh-five-fifty-eight. He rolled his shoulders and neck to alleviate some of the tension before readjusting _again_ the gun in his arms. He controlled his breathing as he waited for the clock to walk forward. Dean could sense the eyes of most of his men waiting for his signal but Dean kept his eyes glued on his watch; he couldn’t look at their faces, knowing most of them wouldn’t get past that morning before a bullet got to them, and that he would have to write the letters to their families to tell them the news. No, Dean couldn’t think about that now or he would freak out; and, if _he_ freaked out, his soldiers would too and they couldn’t have that.

When it was finally oh-six-hundred hours, Dean signalled to his men; _it’s go time._ At that, all hell broke loose; there were more guns than Dean could count being fired, the air being filled with the smell of gunpowder and ash, and he could see where each of his men were from the ignition in their guns. But Dean focused on also firing, trying to see any movement from the enemy on the other side instead of his men. He fired and then ran through the trenches, screaming orders at his men, telling them where to shoot, and sending three of them on a suicide sprint; and what a suicide it could’ve been. He could already hear screams of pain around him, the sound of bodies falling onto the ground with muffled thuds, but Dean didn’t stop; he kept running, screaming, and firing. He pretended there wasn’t anything happening around him or he would lose his mind.

The earth trembled under his feet as the cannons fired, the noise deafening Dean for a second. There was more ash covering the sky, blocking most of the low light they had, and the smell of blood soon started to become stronger at each shot, sickening Dean every time he breathed, and the sound of so many guns being fired at the same time almost clouded the sound of the screams.

Dean took cover as he breathed deeply, and then looked around him; there were countless bodies on the ground, most of them faceless to him, crimson red blood sprayed all over the ground. There were holes on the ground where missile projectiles had landed, pieces of shrapnel spread around, some spattered with more blood. A bullet caught in the tree Dean was hiding startled him and he curled on himself, waiting as shreds of the tree flew around, some hitting him. Dean felt sharps of pain on his right arm but it was nothing he couldn’t shake off.

When the bullets stopped, Dean risked a look around, aiming his gun at one silhouette moving on the enemy line. Dean took the shot, hitting the man’s head a second later. He took cover once again, allowing himself three seconds to breathe before he sprinted towards his men. He yelled orders to his sides, pushing privates to where they were needed, and screaming for medics. Dean did his best to keep himself from recognizing their faces, turning instead to aim and shoot at anything that moved, forcing himself to keep running forward without a second thought.

A flare was shot, lightening their surroundings in red along with the blood being spattered in the air. It allowed Dean to see somewhat better in the middle of the grey and the ashes, and he managed to get more certain shots. Throwing himself onto the ground, Dean rolled to one of their covers, hitting someone with his left side. The person grunted and Dean turned to look at them; Benny. Dean opened his mouth to greet him when he saw: Benny’s face was covered in blood over his paleness, there was a gruesome wound on his neck, blood spurting out from it, damping all of his uniform. Dean froze on the spot, staring at Benny as he watched him try to make some words, Benny’s wide eyes filled with fear and panic. 

Dean snapped himself out of his stupor, looking on Benny’s uniform for some gauze and pressing it on the wound, applying as much pressure as he could as Benny groaned. “Hey, hey, you’re gonna be okay, alright? I’ve got you.” Benny’s mouth moved without a sound and Dean shushed him. He turned his head to scream for a medic before looking back at Benny.

His hands started to get slippery with the blood, the gauze almost completely red by then, but Dean couldn’t stop; he kept the pressure on Benny’s wound as he tried to reassure him, whispering soothing nonsense for him and telling him that everything would be okay, that they would be back home in no time, that the medics would take care of him even though Dean knew it was already over. 

Dean kept on going until the light in Benny’s eyes died down and his chest stopped moving under his hands. Dean still couldn’t believe it as he cried on top of Benny, the gauze slipping from his hands with a wet sound, and he couldn’t force himself to snap out of it; he knew he still had a war to fight, that more of his men were out there, putting their lives at risk, and that Dean had a job to do, but he just couldn’t. He kept staring at Benny’s eyes as tears ran down his cheeks, and he didn’t move until someone pulled him away.

He tried to fight it, not listening to what the voice was saying, but then he was being pressed against a tree and there were hands cradling his face, forcing him to face the person. Dean met blue, worried eyes, Cas’s voice making its way into his ears, “Dean! You have to move or you’ll die too, come on!”

Cas shook him until Dean finally reacted, grabbing Cas’s hands to stop him. “I’m fine, let me go.” Cas pulled his hands away from Dean, keeping them raised, worry still in his eyes. Dean hastily cleaned the tears from his face only to get it wetter.

He lowered them and noticed there was still blood in them, and he couldn’t do anything to get it out. He sighed as he raised his eyes to Cas, forcing Benny’s dead face out of his mind. Dean had a job to do and he couldn’t afford to lose any more time; he would be able to grieve later but _not now_. 

Pushing himself up, Dean grabbed his gun from Cas’s hands, rolling his shoulder before putting the strap back on. Cas placed a hand on his arm and one on his cheek, and Dean could’ve kissed him if something hadn’t come into his mind: he couldn’t, not when they were in the middle of a war with so many people around them. So, instead, Dean only placed one of his own hands on top of Cas’s before gently pulling it away from him, eyes roaming around them to make sure no one had seen their quick interaction.

With a sigh and a heavy heart, Dean let go of Cas’s hand. “We have to go, private. Dismissed.”

He saw a hint of hurt in Cas’s face before he finally seemed to realize what Dean was thinking, straightening his back and giving a nod in salute. Cas crouched to keep himself from being seen and dragged himself away, encouraging the men in his path. Dean forced his eyes away to keep himself from staring at Cas for any longer, and then started to move. He took as many shots as he could, trying his best to aim as correctly as possible. 

Benny was _not_ in his mind, his dead eyes staring at Dean, red blood contrasting with the paleness of his skin, uniform bloodied and shredded. Dean did _not_ think about that as he took shot after shot.

The red flare was still in the sky, showering everything in a light red, and Dean could almost pretend that all the red he was seeing on the ground and on the bodies was purely from it. There were still missiles being fired from both sides, hissing all around them, chucks of trees and dirt being thrown in the air.

Dean barely avoided a huge piece of wood from impaling him when he threw himself onto the ground, rolling away from it. Hardly believing his luck, Dean pushed himself up and forced his legs to run, despite their soreness; Dean kept his vision on the enemy, gun raised and firing as fast and certain as he could, and he blocked the pain in his legs from his mind. There were whimpers and sobs around him, but Dean kept on running, swallowing down the thought that his friends were dying and there was nothing he could do; Benny’s pale and bloodied face insisted on appearing in his mind and Dean forced it out because he couldn’t deal with that now. He would freeze again and he was under no condition to be capable of doing that unless he wanted to die.

So he kept running, forcing his legs to do more than they could handle, but he didn’t stop; he yelled orders to his men, telling them where to go and what to do; he searched for weak spots in the enemy line; he got orders and updates from his superiors; he aimed and fired left and right; and he did _not think_. The only thing in his mind was all the training he got before they were shipped to France and if he was doing everything he was supposed to. It was an easy path to follow and left no room for wonders or personal thoughts.

His hearing was gone suddenly, an impact throwing him onto the ground, his right side exploding in pain. Dean couldn’t hear his own groan of pain and his vision was obscured with dirt. He coughed as he tried to sit, but there was a hand pushing him down, holding him against the floor. 

Trying to squirm out of the grasp, Dean finally managed to see something as the person cleaned his eyes with water, and he half-stared at Kevin on top of him. He could see Kevin’s mouth moving but he couldn’t hear a word that was said to him. Dean started to freak out; what if he had gone deaf? How the hell would he fight if he couldn’t hear anything? They were going to ship him back to the US and Dean would be left alone, without knowing what the hell was happening to his men, to _Cas_.

“Kevin, I can’t hear you,” Dean forced out, not sure if Kevin would hear him over the firing or if the words were really leaving his mouth.

But it seemed to work; Kevin stopped talking, his expression turning to a worried one. Before Dean realized what was happening, Kevin had both of his hands on Dean’s ears, pressing against them before pulling away quickly, and the pressure disappeared in a fraction of second. All of the sounds seemed to return to Dean and he almost wished they hadn’t; the gunshots were too loud and the screams around them seemed to pierce through his ears.

“Can you hear me now, Lieutenant?”

Dean sighed in relief and he was almost about to hug Kevin—not really caring he shouldn’t because he was a lieutenant, but who cared, he could hear!—when there was a gunshot and Kevin was thrown forward, falling onto Dean’s side with a muffled thud. He didn’t move and Dean could feel something warm seeping through his uniform and onto his shoulder where Kevin’s forehead rested. He didn’t actually have the courage to raise Kevin’s head to see the truth; there was no way something different had happened and the warmth could only mean one thing: blood. Dean did not want to see it and he tried to keep himself breathing as he grabbed handfuls of Kevin’s uniform and pulled him away from him. He placed Kevin facing up, keeping his vision away from Kevin’s face as he stared at the grey sky. 

He lost count of how many minutes passed as he rested there, the sounds of the war still at full around him, but Dean couldn’t force himself to move as much as he wanted to. He felt as Kevin’s warmth slowly started to disappear where they touched and the wetness on his uniform cooled down along. Dean knew he had to move and face reality, but that wasn’t the reality he wanted to see; earlier, before they were even shipped to Europe to fight the nazis and he was still training his soldiers, Dean phantomed the idea that they would all be back from the war in a few months and he would get to see all of them going back to their families, girlfriends, fiancés, wives, kids. But now, almost a year into the war, Dean had written so many condolence letters to loved ones that he knew that dream would never be a reality, but it was hard to actually let it go, to let it slip from his hands while he could do nothing but watch.

After a deep breath, Dean finally sat and turned to look at Kevin, meeting a pale and bloodied face, eyes glassy and unblinking as they stared at the sky, and the forehead wound where the bullet had pierced through Kevin’s brain and killed him. Dean’s heart tightened in his chest and he couldn’t help but think that, maybe, Kevin would still be alive if he hadn’t stopped to help Dean. If Dean had been faster and seen the missile coming towards him, he wouldn’t have fallen in the first place and there wouldn’t have been any need for Kevin to check up on him and be in the enemy’s line of view long enough for them to shoot him.

Dean’s uniform had a new fresh stain of blood and he couldn’t say which was from Benny’s and which was from Kevin’s. They mixed in Dean’s uniform, the red and the green turning into an ugly, darkish brown. A few spots had more of a reddish colour and Dean’s hands almost glowed red in the flare’s light. He tried wiping them in his clothes but it was already dried; he only managed to get fresh blood in them. Dean gulped down as he closed Kevin’s eyes and retrieved his own gun. He searched in Kevin’s pockets for more ammo, whispering an _I’m sorry_ to him before pushing himself up and going back to the fight.

It was still chaos around them but it seemed to be slowly dying out; the enemy’s fire wasn’t as hard as it was earlier and Dean’s soldiers seemed to be keeping anyone from getting to the cannon, so they had an advantage. The sky was slightly clearer now, allowing him to see some of the sun, and it seemed to be lifting the men’s spirits; they fought harder, some joking around and pulling laughs out of their companions even as they shot, betting who could kill more nazis, and they were able to get a more certain aim. Dean smiled despite himself because the odds were finally turning in their favour and he was feeling that his men’s deaths hadn’t been in vain—they would be able to finally advance and finish off the rest of the German soldiers. 

Dean crouched down by Charlie’s side, who had a few splats of blood on her face but a big smile nonetheless. Dean bumped his shoulder against hers before they looked over the trenches and fired. The flare was dying down but the sunlight was enough for them to hit some of the men; Dean managed to get five men down while Charlie got seven. He nodded at her before running to their left, flinching every time a bullet flew over his head.

He thanked whoever was out there protecting him from getting shot as he curled onto himself behind a tree. Dean took a few deep breaths to get it even and then turned to look at his army; there were still a lot of men shooting and he could see the ones taking care of the cannon directing it to what Dean thought was the German bunker. If they managed to hit and destroy it, there was no way the Germans would keep on fighting; even _they_ had to know how and when to admit defeat.

Checking his gun, Dean sighed in relief when he saw there were still enough bullets for him before he had to find more; getting a new load would be hard enough in there and he wanted to get this over with before then. He then ran towards the soldiers close to the cannon, giving them cover as they loaded it. The German soldiers were more careful now; they didn’t shoot as much and they hid behind cover far too quickly for Dean to actually be able to shoot at them.

Still, he kept on going; any movement got his attention and he shot without thinking. It was automatic and Dean appreciated it. It was easy enough to do and he was more than used to it. He crouched right before a bullet flew to where his head was. Dean exhaled hard through his mouth before raising again and shooting some more. The other soldiers soon joined him and they all shot in synchrony, just as they had practiced.

Dean was proud of them and, when he was told the cannon was ready, he signalled to his men, telling them to stop the shooting. The noise died down for two seconds before the cannon exploded by Dean’s side and the missile flew to the other side with a fizzling sound. They all watched it as it got closer and closer to the German bunker, German soldiers screaming and running away from it, but most of them weren’t fast enough; the missile hit the concrete with a loud noise and huge chunks of concrete flew through the air before hitting the ground and raising clouds of dirt.

They didn’t wait for two seconds before starting the fire again, the air again being filled with the sound of loud gunshots. Dean could still hear some screams from the Germans, most of them crying out in pain, but he pushed it out of his mind; those guys had taken his friends’ lives right in front of him and they were supporting one of the most horrible men to ever walk the Earth. Dean had no problem taking their lives as well.

In the midst of the dirt and chaos behind the enemy line, a white flag was raised slowly and hesitantly, and Dean raised his closed fist to stop his men from shooting. They did it; they had finally beaten the Germans down and all they had to do now was to take their prisoners and take another piece of land in the name of the US government. There were tanks already moving towards the German base, soldiers running by their sides, and Dean allowed himself to relax. For a few hours at least, they would finally be able to get some rest, eat, drink, and do anything that wasn’t shooting or running to save their lives.

Dean let his gun fall from his hands, hanging by its strap, and then walked among his men, telling them they did a good job, clapping their shoulders with a smile, telling them to breathe relieved and to get some water while they could. When he spotted Cas at the end of the line, Dean smiled at him and walked as fast as he could without running. Cas smiled back at him, walking towards him to meet Dean halfway. 

He was almost close enough to grab a handful of Cas’s uniform and pull him into a hug when it happened: one single shot was fired a fraction of a second before the bullet hit Cas’s side. Blood spurted out of the wound as Cas cried out, some of it hitting Dean’s face as he froze, watching as Cas fell to his knees, a scared expression on his face, eyes dropping down to stare at the wound. Cas's mouth was hanging open as more blood started to drop down his chin and then he fell forward.

Dean didn't even think or cared about the others; he ran to Cas as fast as he could, screaming his name in pure terror, grabbing a handful of Cas's uniform to pull him into his lap. Cas's eyes were wide as he stared at Dean, hands grasping uselessly at the wound by his side. His uniform was soon more red than green and Dean could feel it seeping through his own combat pants. The smell soon reached Dean's nose and he couldn't do anything more than just cradle Cas's head between his hands, sobs coming out of his mouth along with something he thought was _please no, not him, not him_.

Not caring about anyone around him, or about what could happen if someone saw it for what it truly was, Dean cried on top of Cas, pressing one hand on his wound to stop the bleeding, his other hand cupping Cas’s cheek as Cas uselessly opening his mouth while no sound came from it. Dean could barely see past his tears, lips and voice trembling as he tried to talk to Cas, nothing more than a mantra of _not him, please god, not him, don’t take him away from me_.

He had never actually believed in prayer until that very moment but he had to start, because all he could do was pray to any and every gods that could be out there to not take Cas away from him, because Dean wouldn't be able to survive without him; Dean couldn’t even think of living without Cas. The amount of blood and the paleness that Cas's face was turning told Dean that none of the gods were actually hearing him, but he kept on praying because there was nothing more he could do; _please, god, no, not Cas, please, don't take him away from me, I love him_.

* * *

“Dean? Dean! Wake up, come on.” There was someone shaking him, desperate hands roaming his face, and Dean nearly jumped out of his skin, wide-eyed and panting.

Nothing around him was what it was supposed to be; Dean could only see the craters left by missiles, the ground covered in blood as the earth drained it, bodies scattered around him, most of his men with glassy, dead eyes, staring lifelessly and blamely at him, some without arms or legs or the lower part of their bodies. It was all wrong and Dean wanted to fall to his knees, cover his eyes, but he could still see them; Cas was among them, blood spilling out of a wound in his abdomen and dripping from his chin, panicked eyes staring at Dean, hands searching for support, grasping at Dean’s uniform.

Dean grabbed Cas’s shoulders tightly, almost painfully, cries coming out of his mouth as he pulled Cas into his chest. He could feel Cas’s chest vibrating as he spoke but Dean couldn’t hear anything, so he just kept on holding him tightly, nothing but _please, no, please no_ coming out of his mouth. Cas pushed him away gently, taking Dean’s hands in his and forcing Dean to really look at him; to stare at his scared expression, blood smeared on his face. 

Cas’s hand was pressing one of Dean’s against Cas’s side, nothing but scarred skin from a well-healed wound under it. “Dean, we’re home, it’s okay, _we’re_ okay. Breathe, Dean, breathe.”

Blinking and panting, Dean saw the blood in Cas’s face slowly disappear, his blue eyes staring worryingly at Dean, and he felt the weight of Cas’s hands on his face, cupping his cheeks. Dean raised his own to cradle Cas’s face, thumbs running along his cheekbones as Dean tried to tell himself that _this_ was real; not the wounded Cas, not the dying Cas. That stopped being a truth a long time ago even though it was still hard to get that image out of his head.

Dean pulled Cas’s face close to his, pressing their foreheads together, and he breathed the same air as Cas. _This is real, Dean, this right here is real. Nothing more._ Cas embraced him and Dean let himself cry as Cas reassured him, telling Dean they were home and not in the war anymore, that they were both okay, and that nothing more would happen to them. _We’re safe._

He kissed Cas softly, focusing on the feeling of Cas’s soft lips under his, Cas’s warm skin under his hands, his breathing hitting Dean’s face, the weight of Cas’s hands on his back, all signs of how real and alive Cas was, and he told himself that they were actually there and nowhere else; not in Germany, not in the middle of a battlefield, but in their own home, miles and years away from those memories, and they were never coming back to them. He sighed in relief as Cas cleaned his tears, opening his eyes to stare at Cas’s and relishing in the feeling of being able to do it without any concerns.

“I love you.”

Cas smiled at him, his eyes and expression softening as he replied, “I love you too.”

**Author's Note:**

> So, did you like it? Leave a comment and a kudo and leave this writer very happy!
> 
> As always, you can find me on [ tumblr](https://gii-heylittleangel.tumblr.com/)


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